The Middle Child
by Rollerwings
Summary: Fanfiction sequel to TFC. He couldn't bring himself to follow Henry's wishes and torch that old house and its contents, not when something of immeasurable value to nobody but himself was hidden inside. Years later, Charlie is forced to ally with a mysterious sibling of sorts she never knew she had when their worst enemy resurfaces in digital form.
1. There Can Be Only One

**Rating: T** for graphic violence, mild swearing, perilous situations, psychological trauma

**Setting:** New Harmony and Hurricane, Utah, circa 1979 - present day

**Summary:** A fanfiction novel set after _TFC._

**Author's Note:** _Five Nights at Freddy's_ and all canon characters, settings, etc. are the property of Scott Cawthon. This is a non-commercial fanfiction sequel to Scott Cawthon and Kira Breed-Wrisley's _The Fourth Closet_ and was not written for profit. This story contains spoilers for the three novels in the series.

You are free to use any original concepts, headcanons and characters from this fanfiction in your own work (fanfiction, art, etc.) if you'd like.

Views expressed in this fanfiction do not necessarily match the writer's.

* * *

_1979 - KOET public-access television_

_"You_ again!"

Henry felt the sleeve of his flannel shirt being tugged as the studio technician seated next to him tried to draw his attention to the television monitor. The gesture was unneeded, for both men's gazes were riveted to the cartoonish rabbit sneering back at them, as if it was daring them to challenge its existence. Although its stare was wall-eyed with its gaze skewed toward two very different angles, the duo had the unmistakable impression the character's full attention was on them. The slight swaying movement of the rabbit suggested this was no still image, but someone in a full-body costume using a live feed to taunt them.

"I've never seen that...character in my life. You say this has happened before, though?" Henry stammered, unable to tear his gaze from the screen. His business partner, or some would say co-conspirator in their children's entertainment franchise, portrayed a bunny as his alter-ego, but the cheerful visage of William's Spring Bonnie hardly resembled this creature's menacing leer.

Anger overriding his initial surprise, Clyde rose from his seat so abruptly his wheeled desk chair careened unnoticed across the television studio floor and bumped against the paneled wall behind him.

_IT'S ME._ Blocky generated text replaced the rabbit, flashing against the field of color bars that had been idling on the monitor before the abrupt interruption. _There can be only one._

"Only one _what?" _Clyde demanded, stalking out of the editing booth and offering the best explanation he could along the way to Henry, who was left with little choice but to follow. This was an outrage; it was television piracy from a repeat offender, and someone had once again waited until the late hours during KOET's nightly sign-off to hijack the broadcast signal. Whoever the pirate was, Clyde was at least fairly certain he wasn't in the building. He had all but eliminated that possibility while investigating the first incident a week before. The low-powered station had exactly one relay to its transmitter in the far-off city, and that equipment was inaccessible to all but a select few.

So that left the possibility of an outsider, someone who was well-off enough to swing the cost of his own transmission rig to override KOET's signal. Clyde hardly knew anyone who fit that hefty bill, he admitted as he found the relay station vacant as it had been the last time, and he shrugged helplessly at Henry.

"Sorry this had to happen on your first night at the studio," Clyde apologized. "This is just someone pranking us, maybe someone with an axe to grind against the station. Don't ask why they picked the graveyard shift to pull this monkey business, though. We're in the middle of nowhere and it's not like anyone's watching as we play the national anthem and sign off, outside of maybe some stoners who get a kick out of staring at TV test patterns. I must've been the only one to witness it last time, since nobody called in to ask what the hell was going on. Naturally, it was my tough break that I didn't get it on tape."

_...Or was it someone with an axe to grind against one of KOET's shows?_ The thought made Clyde shudder, pausing in his paces through the studio amidst the psychedelic scenery of _Funtime Forest, _his father's program that had recently launched its tenth season. Grinning despite himself, he reached out fondly and stroked the leaves of an anthropomorphic tree, one of a small stand that made up the set. The grotesque but endearing features of the tree, fixed in a simpering grin, made it easy to forget one's troubles.

"Our pirate struck again, Leafy," Clyde said aloud, glancing cautiously at Henry to gauge his reaction and getting rewarded with a knowing grin.

"If you were scared that I was about to give you a hard time for talking to puppets and props as if they were real, you were mistaken," Henry teased lightly. He was relieved to have found a kindred spirit in Clyde, for Will seldom indulged in his "flights of fancy," as he had termed them. "They _are_ real, at least in a sense, because we made them that way, and to the kids they entertain? They are _more_ than real. They're your best friend when you feel left out, someone to cheer you up when you're blue, and always there no matter what kind of day you're having."

"You said it. Geez, I still can't believe you're actually here, a pioneer when it comes to cutting-edge animatronic development, in _our_ little studio," Clyde said reverently while Henry shrugged.

"And I can't believe I actually had a fan all this time - who knew?" Henry managed a slight smile, his gaze cast down at the fake turf covering the forest floor. "As you might've guessed, Will can also build and program an animatronic character like nobody's business, but his financial savviness far outshines mine. I owe him a lot, and I don't mind if he prefers being out front for the public." Indeed, had it not been for William Afton's bold master plan to grow what had started out as a small children's birthday party venue and eventually franchise the operation in the near future, Henry acknowledged that Fredbear's Family Diner might have forever remained a struggling two-man operation, scarcely known outside the borders of New Harmony.

"You're both amazing, and your characters are going to fit in great with the cast here on the show," Clyde vowed, biting his lip while silently adding, _like one big happy family._ When Afton had first met the station's executives, he had brazenly demanded a block of programming time for his own children's show, a request that had at first been flatly denied. Though the entrepreneur boasted he could effortlessly finance such a venture thanks to the overwhelming success of his growing restaurant business, he had been met with the news that KOET only had a limited broadcast schedule, one that was currently full, not to mention they were already the home station to a much-revered children's program, thank you very much. Undeterred, Afton had pressed for a meeting with _Funtime Forest's_ producers, had ingratiated himself to Clyde's father and his co-hosts and walked out with a deal to merge their ideas and share airtime.

On Afton's initial visit to the set, he had breezily dismissed Clyde's attempt to "introduce" him to the show's existing cast of characters, even muttering something about not having time to say hello to underlings, let alone puppets, under his breath. It was only when Henry had arrived for tonight's brainstorming session to integrate their concepts into the show, offering a stammered apology for his partner's brusqueness and then displaying genuine and unabashed interest in the existing characters and lore of the Funtime set, that Clyde had felt at ease. This _was _supposed to be a merger and not a takeover, after all.

"Hey, on the flip side it's not like I don't watch _your_ show," Henry protested, settling onto a paper mache tree stump and picking up a multi-hued caterpillar that had been resting by its roots. Mister Manylegs, named for the sneaker-clad appendages that dangled from the insect's long segmented body, stared back vacantly at him. "You're doing some incredible work here, and this little guy's corny jokes during the end credits always get me."

Clyde blushed, waving off the praise. "Aw, you really caught that? It took years of auditioning and pleading before my old man would write him into the show for those last two episodes, and although I have a soft spot for him, he's still just a cheap carnival prize I won when I was ten. I did a half-assed job of turning him into a puppet a few years back, but as you can see, I probably shouldn't quit my day job."

Henry turned the caterpillar over in his grasp, studying the fixed facial features and already imagining them replaced with animatronic embellishments that would allow for blinking, focused eyes and more realistic mouth movements. His own Fredbear had been his brainchild, conceived back in his college days and steadily improved upon as his creator's knowlege in puppetry, and later animatronic technology, grew. Still, Henry recalled fondly his earliest projects when his level of expertise had matched Clyde's.

In contrast to the sophisticated duo of Fredbear and Spring Bonnie, all of the Forest's denizens were simple felt-and-fur creations, devoid of any complex moving parts. Their unsophisticated appearance didn't endear them to all their viewers, some of whom had taken the time to write in just to tell the producers they found the characters creepy or even demonic, but their youngest fans, the target audience who really inspired the show to persevere over the years, saw past their flaws and loved them anyway.

"You did fine with what you had," Henry corrected Clyde, tracing a finger along the caterpillar's segmented body. "Though if you'd like, I could rig him up with some wires that would help control his movement so he'd look less like a handpuppet."

The next few moments saw Henry bringing his toolkit into the studio and snaking long wires through Mister Manylegs, giving the sunny little character the new ability to kick his sneakered feet in a dance of excitement whenever he told a particularly hilarious joke.

"Y'know, I'm awfully glad you wanted to stop by when the studio was all but empty," Clyde admitted, holding the "patient" still for his surgery of sorts. "Otherwise I'd truly be doubting my sanity when that rabbit appeared not once, but twice, while I was locked in here by myself. I still don't know what to make of that."

Henry nodded, his attention mostly on the delicate operation before him. He was hesitant to mention that the prospect of entering a crowded studio filled with fans of Will's work was positively nerve-wracking and he much preferred the company of a sole fellow night-owl.

"I'll just come right out and say it," he finally spoke up, pausing with his needlenose pliers suspended in the air. "That's not Will's Spring Bonnie who startled us tonight, and Will may be rough around the edges but he wouldn't do something like that." Scratching his head, he came perilously close to gouging himself in the eye with the tool he was wielding, but scarcely seemed to notice. "Whoever that character is, I haven't seen him before."

"I have." Clyde's reply was terse, but after a few moments under Henry's questioning stare he continued. "What? It's just a mass-produced Easter Bunny suit and they probably made a million of them, and now our jokester found himself one." Failing to see any sign of recognition from Henry, he added, "Lawson's IGA had a costume just like that for their annual free kids' pictures with the Bunny. Uh, that is they _had_ one. Something...happened to the suit a few years back." He chuckled nervously, but was relieved when Henry failed to press for further details. That was one dark memory he was loath to recall.

* * *

_The TV signal hack described in this chapter was inspired by the still-unsolved pirate attack on Chicago's WGN-TV in 1987. For a fascinating read, check out "The Mystery of the Creepiest Television Hack" on Vice dot com. _


	2. A Bloody Easter

"I said I've never seen this _character_ before, Clyde," Henry corrected gently, putting Mister Manylegs through an experimental walk cycle. His hands grasped the rigid wires beneath the puppet itself, moving each set of feet in unison. "I've seen the suit a dozen times if I've seen it once, but somebody's changed this one, though hardly for the better. I also saw _you_ there at Lawson's; I must say for a guy who's admitted he's perfectly happy staying behind the scenes, any time strange things go down in this little town, you're right in the middle of it."

"Yeah, it's just my dumb luck, huh?" Clyde said, feeling his face reddening and wondering what else Henry might have witnessed. _"That_ was an Easter to remember, for all the wrong reasons."

* * *

_March 1978 - Lawson's IGA, New Harmony, Utah_

"Y'know, there's a reason most kids stop believing in the Easter Bunny long before they get too old for Santa," said Clyde, careful to keep his voice low so only his co-worker standing nearby could hear. "It's one thing to meet up with a kindly old guy with a long white beard and a fire-engine red suit, even if he's not groomed or dressed like anyone they've seen anywhere else. But just look, even the young ones are questioning how _that_ resembles any real rabbits they've seen."

He gestured to a wide-eyed toddler he had just lifted to the Bunny's lap. The speechless tyke was grasping the bulbous plastic eyes on the costume's facemask with both hands and trying to manipulate them, while the child furrowed his brow, no doubt attempting to make sense of this strange, unblinking being.

"Not gonna argue with you, and that thing looks about as convincing as the taxidermy mounts in my old man's den. Maybe someday they'll make a better Bunny costume that's, uh, more alive," Derrick remarked, "but for now, your job is to remind the kiddos to smile for their free Polaroid and hand 'em a plastic Easter egg full of jelly beans after their visit."

"Wonder if the _Funtime Forest_ crew could improve the costume..." Clyde daydreamed aloud, tugging at the stiff plastic vest he and Derrick had been asked to wear as official Easter Bunny's helpers for the special event. Modeled after the rabbit's own, it was printed with images of brightly colored eggs, baby chicks and lambs. He could only hope none of his high school classmates brought their younger siblings by the supermarket, as he would never live down being seen in this get-up.

"No offense, but if your dad and his pals got a hold of Mister E. Bunny, he'd wind up looking like the other stoned creatures living in, what's it again? Mellow Meadows?" Beside Derrick, Clyde gestured helplessly, knowing where this was headed.

"Hey, whatever you're insinuating about what goes on behind the scenes at that studio, I've heard all the rumors and y'know, I don't really care. They put out a great show for the kids, and wherever they get their inspiration from, it's none of my beeswax and what happens in the studio stays in the studio." Clyde smirked as his coworker mimicked taking a long drag off a suspicious cigarette. "But you got the name right; Mellow Meadows is indeed located one set away from Funtime Forest."

* * *

"See what you'll get to deal with next year, Hank?" Will Afton elbowed his partner in the ribs, chortling at the toddler who had apparently decided the Easter Bunny was too uncanny and now couldn't scramble from his lap fast enough. "Your two will get their own turn to be terrorized by the freaky-deaky rabbit, even if they'll be almost a year old by then."

The soon-to-be new father chuckled. "C'mon, Will. First, I've told you to stop calling me 'Hank' like we just stepped out of some Western. Also, these are my twins we're talking about. They're going to grow up thinking it's perfectly normal to talk to six-foot-tall bears and rabbits, so I doubt they'll so much as blink when they meet the big guy."

"Maybe so," Will mused. "There's always a few brave ones and nothing will faze them." No sooner had he spoken than the child next in line, who had been hopping up and down in sheer excitement over his upcoming turn to visit with the bunny, bolted forward, arms outstretched to embrace his hero.

What happened next would forever leave its mark on both men. The youth, a boy of about six and by all appearances still a true believer in Easter magic, tripped over one of the electrical cords snaking through the photography set-up, sending one of the pole-mounted lights crashing down onto the shoulders of the Bunny's two hapless human assistants. The child pitched headlong to the fake turf covering the floor, steps before he had reached the costumed character. By the time he had picked himself up, the concerned rabbit had already scrambled over to assist him to his feet.

The child, frightened by the rivulets of blood that dripped from his mouth onto his Sunday-best collared shirt, clutched tightly to the character, already beginning to whimper over his missing tooth that lay somewhere on the floor amidst the fake greenery and Easter lilies. His reaction mirrored that of the other children in attendance, who gasped or outright screamed.

"Stay calm, you'll be okay!" cried out a teenaged worker from nearby. Clyde half-pried the boy from the arms of the rabbit who was now hugging him protectively and passed him off to his mother's custody. More bedlam erupted from the crowd, with many customers breaking away in hysteria.

"Guys, it's not what it looks like, the Bunny's fine!" Yet nothing was "fine," Clyde realized once he caught sight of the bright red stains marring the honey-gold acrylic fur of the rabbit, let alone those that had transferred to his own clothing. They both resembled actors from a low-budget horror flick, the type that only aired in the late hours of the night. "Uh, scratch that, we've got to get you out of here post-haste," he hissed to the character, swiftly leading the way to the nearest janitorial closet.

* * *

"So what started out as a shopping trip to buy basket-fillers for our young customers ended in disaster, though I've got to say, you handled it the best you could, whisking him away so fast," Henry recalled. He felt it best not to mention Will's reaction, one that had stopped him cold at the time. When he had sneaked a glimpse at his business partner, a trancelike and faraway stare he couldn't begin to decipher had been plastered across the other man's face. And then Will had simply disappeared, Henry had imagined so he could deal in his own way with the trauma of seeing a child injured. A sensitive man, he himself had lost sleep over it in the following days.

"Yeah, but at least the kid only lost a baby tooth and his folks never blamed us for any of it. I was scared he'd wind up with a concussion or something." Clyde shook his head. "So as I said earlier, the eeriest part is that something _happened_ to the costume, besides just getting soaked in that kid's blood.

Derrick and I just about got our bells rung when that lamp whacked us, but once we helped the store's assistant manager out of the costume in that back room, the event shut down pretty quickly, with someone just throwing the rest of the candy to the crowd and telling the kids the Bunny had to hurry back home to dye more eggs. By the time we got around to cleaning up the scene, I was asked to salvage the suit the best we could before the stains set."

"And...?" Henry found himself growing anxious to hear the conclusion, but a gnawing sense of unease had already found its home in the pit of his stomach.

"That's the weirdest part. Derrick said the man from the rental outfit had already picked it up, but it wasn't a loaner; the store owned it outright and we still have no clue who the guy who showed up to claim the costume was. I hate to even think this, but someone who was there that day and liked what he saw must've stolen it as some really sick souvenir." Clyde rubbed his arms and shivered in visible disgust.

"Damn. Still too early to say if our TV hacker tonight was wearing _that_ costume, though, or if he's just one of the many area residents who are darkly fascinated with a story that's managed to become a local legend in just a year's time. Either way, it's probably no coincidence." _Ghastly to think that someone would capitalize on a child's misfortune, though._

* * *

Two earthenware mugs full of steaming coffee in hand, Henry entered the studio several weeks later to find Clyde sitting unhappily in front of a sheet of paper as rumpled as the clothes that hung off his frame, his caterpillar puppet propped nearby as if it was supervising his work. The surface of the desk before them was liberally covered in pink eraser shavings, and it was apparent the young man had scrubbed holes directly into the document he had been attempting to write.

"Being a little hard on ourself, are we?" Henry chided gently, setting a mug down in front of his kindred spirit at the television station. Sliding it aside as if he didn't deserve it, Clyde rubbed his eyes with both hands.

"Will's right, I shouldn't have quit my day job, uh, not that I exactly _quit_ my last one. Writing jokes for Mister Manylegs is a tall order, especially when it's not really what the kids want anymore. They're all for more Spring Bonnie, if the fan mail is any indication."

Henry opened his mouth to defend Mister Manylegs and his bit part in the show's end credits but then thought better of it. Clyde wasn't exactly wrong about Spring Bonnie's rapid rise to fame, though it had come at the cost of not only the joke-telling caterpillar but the other Forest denizens and, to a lesser extent, even his beloved Fredbear. While the other characters were revered classics, Spring Bonnie had become an overnight sensation in his move to the television show, bounding in with relentless energy and a wisecracking irreverence that made the do-good maxims of the other characters seem dated and stodgy. _No wonder_ their young viewers strongly preferred the mischievous rabbit over a gentle-natured bear, let alone a lowly caterpillar voiced by a high school kid who had never taken an acting lesson in his life.

"Y'know, maybe that other, creepy rabbit was right. 'There can be only one,' and some caterpillar doesn't have a hell of a chance against _him."_ Crumpling up the forsaken script he'd been writing, the technician opened the window behind his desk, poised to pitch the paper ball out into the cool night air. It would be nothing short of cathartic...

"Oh no." Henry watched as Clyde's hand froze in midair, then gradually dropped while his shoulders slumped. Beyond the studio, blue and red lights strobed throughout the parking lot. Though Henry fought to remain calm, the teenager just shook his head sadly as if he had been expecting this day to happen.

"Y-y'know what they're here for, right?" Clyde asked weakly, and Henry nodded, freezing when the sharp knock sounded at the door. "Don't worry, I'll make sure they know you had nothing to do with it."

_"No...you can't!" _Already guessing what the other man was about to do, Henry was powerless to interfere as Clyde made his way forward, gripping Mister Manylegs to his chest like a frightened child clutching a teddy bear.

"I can't _what,_ Henry?" Clyde's tone was mournful if resigned. "My dad's got eight other kids to feed, and he can't lose the show over this." He swung open the door, squinting in apprehension at the lights dancing over the large lenses of his eyeglasses.

"I-it's me you want," he breathed. "It's me."

* * *

_The Easter Bunny incident in this chapter was inspired by a local legend, originally heard by the writer in the late Eighties. If there is any truth to it, no disrespect was intended toward the actual child injured in that incident, but it is darkly fascinating from a horror writing perspective to imagine a friendly mascot costume stained with blood being whisked into a safe room away from children._


End file.
